"I'm working on an impression of my brother, do you like it?" He smiled.
And there was the question he'd been dreading. Because he knew that no matter what answer he gave, she'd either get angry, or not believe him, or both. He was having a difficult time coming up with anything coherent to say, between the ache in his head and the strangely pleasant feeling or her playing with his hair.
This time, he did take one of her hands, holding on with both of his so she couldn't break free. He brought her hand to rest on his chest, as if somehow she'd be able to read and understand the strange knot of feelings he'd been dealing with all day with her fingertips.
But all he could really think to say was, "I don't know. Because you were upset. Because I could."
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And there was the question he'd been dreading. Because he knew that no matter what answer he gave, she'd either get angry, or not believe him, or both. He was having a difficult time coming up with anything coherent to say, between the ache in his head and the strangely pleasant feeling or her playing with his hair.
This time, he did take one of her hands, holding on with both of his so she couldn't break free. He brought her hand to rest on his chest, as if somehow she'd be able to read and understand the strange knot of feelings he'd been dealing with all day with her fingertips.
But all he could really think to say was, "I don't know. Because you were upset. Because I could."
Because you couldn't.